Harry Potter and the Man with the Eyebrows
by Derpyburp
Summary: It's Harry's fourth year and he is astonished to be chosen by the Goblet of Fire to represent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the Triwizard Tournament, a dangerous competition with terrifying tasks. Now, it's up to England to ensure the safety of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. No romance/pairings.
1. The Dark Lord is Back

Muttering under his breath, Frank Bryce clambered up the old steps and turned right on the landing, following the hushed voices. At the end of the hallway, a flickering light spilled out from an ajar door. Frank could just hear the voices, but he was not close enough to make out the words. He cautiously edged towards the room.

A timid, fearful voice squeaked from inside the room, "There is a little more in the bottle if you are still hungry, my lord."

"Later," a second voice said. It belonged to a man, but it was strangely high-pitched and sounded colder than an icy blast of wind. Frank's spine pricked uncomfortably. "Wormtail, move me closer to the fire." The second voice demanded.

Frank squinted incredulously. _Wormtail? What type of name is that?_ Frank carefully pressed his ear against the wooden door. Chair legs screeched dully against old, timber floorboards.

The cold voice spoke again, "Where is Nagini?"

"I-I don't know, my lord," admitted Wormtail, "She set out to explore the house, I think…"

"You will milk her before we retire. The journey has tired me greatly."

Brow furrowed, Frank listened as the two voices engaged in a conversation about 'Quidditch', 'Muggles', the 'Ministry of Magic' and 'wizards'. Frank had never heard of this 'Quidditch' or 'Muggles', and he, in his seventy-seven years of living, was sure that magic did _not_ exist.

Unless, it was code. And Frank only knew two types of people who would use code – criminals and spies.

Frank gripped his walking stick with sweaty hands and continued listening.

"Your lordship is still determined, then?" Wormtail whispered so quietly that his words where almost lost in the wind.

With a note of menace and annoyance, the second voice snapped, "Certainly I am determined, Wormtail."

A short pause followed, before Wormtail blurted out hastily, "It can be done without Harry Potter, my lord."

A pregnant pause, and then –

"Without Harry Potter?" breathed the cold voice softly. "Interesting..."

"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" Wormtail's voice rose squeakily." The boy is nothing to me, _nothing!_ It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard-"

"I _could_ use another wizard..." the second voice interrupted."Nagini has told me about some rumours… rumours about a very powerful wizard. An immortal man. He would be suitable, he would work just fine... and I would be stronger than ever, blood of an immortal running through my veins!"

Wormtail's breath hitched, as did Frank's. _An immortal man? That's impossible!_

"Who is it, my lord?"

"They say he goes by the name Arthur Kirkland," rasped the icy voice. Frank's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Arthur Kirkland sounds like an extremely generic and ordinary name. The second voice continued, "Wormtail, if you get me Arthur Kirkland… you shall be rewarded greatly."

Frank had heard enough. Arthur Kirkland and Harry Potter – whoever and _whatever _they are – were in danger. Frank knew exactly what he had to do: creep out of this house to the nearest telephone box and call the police. Immediately.

However, before Frank could move his quivering legs, the second voice spoke once again. "They're as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But be quiet, I think I hear Nagini…"

Suddenly, the second man's voice changed. He started making hissing and spitting noises, almost like a snake. Was he having a seizure? Frank had a little mental battle about whether he should call the police or the ambulance.

Then, he heard movement behind him. _Swish, swish, swish._

When Frank whipped around, he wished he hadn't.

He was met face-to-face with a huge snake, almost twelve feet long. The flickering light from within the room reflected in its menacing eyes and its dark scales.

Frank froze. What was he to do? The only means of escape from the snake was through the room where the two men were planning murder, yet if he stayed the snake was sure to rip his flesh to pieces.

But as the gigantic snake slithered closer, it completely ignored him, as if he wasn't there. Frank exhaled in relief. The second voice inside the room continued to hiss and spit when a crazy realisation hit him in the face like a brick – the man inside could speak to snakes.

_First 'Quidditch' and 'wizards' and now snake whisperers. What's next? Flying horses and dragons?_

Once again, the cold voice switched back to English, "Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,"

"In-indeed, my Lord?"

"Indeed, yes. According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right behind that door, listening to every word we say."

Frank didn't have time to run. Before he could blink, the door was flung open to reveal a short, balding man with watery eyes. His face was of fear and shock.

"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?"

The voice came from the armchair facing the warm fire, and the snake was coiled up on the rug, as if it was a pet dog. The man with watery eyes beckoned Frank into the room, black cloak swishing around his ankles. The fire cast long, spidery shadows upon the peeling walls. Staring at the back of the armchair, Frank realised that the speaker must be smaller than his servant, as the back of his head couldn't be seen.

"Heard everything, Muggle?"

Suddenly feeling powered by courage and bravery, Frank demanded, "What _is_ it that you're calling me?"

"I'm calling you a Muggle. It means that you are not a wizard." Explained the cold voice coolly,

"Well, all I know and I _need_ to know is that you are planning murder! And I bet the police would be interested to know that!" he added, on a sudden inspiration, "my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back-"

"You have no wife," the voice remarked in a dangerous tone, "Nobody knows where you are. You told nobody that you were coming up here. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for it will be in vain. Lord Voldemort knows, he _always_knows..."

"Is that right? _Lord_, is it? Well I don't think much of your manners, _my lord_. Turn round and face me like a man, why don't you?" Frank snarled roughly, glaring at the dull red fabric of the armchair.

"But I am not a man," the cold voice was barely audible over the crackling of slowly dying flames. "I am much, _much_ more than a man. However, why not? I will face you. Wormtail, turn my chair around."

The servant made a sound of shock.

"_Do it, Wormtail_."

Slowly, Wormtail approached his master and spun the chair around so that it faced Frank.

Frank's walking stick fell to the ground with a loud clatter and he opened his mouth to let out a blood-curdling shriek. In a flash of green light, Frank fell to the floor in a crumpled mess... _dead_.

Two hundred miles away, the boy named Harry Potter woke up with a start.

Even further away, Arthur Kirkland gave a sudden jolt and realised that something was terribly wrong...

_And that Voldemort was behind it._


	2. England joins the battle

**A/N: Heeeello, Derp Army! Derpy here! And I managed to type up another chapter! It... took me like, five years though... XD Uhh, I don't really have anything else to say, constructive feedback is appreciated, if you see any typos, please tell me, blah blah blah.**

**ON WITH THE STORY!**

Arthur Kirkland, also known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland or England_,_rolled his eyes as the United States of America, or Alfred F. Jones, cheered, "Wooo, coffee time!"

He entered the break room and made himself a cup of tea. Breathing in the beautiful aroma of Earl Grey, England plopped himself in the seat closest to the door, which was isolated away from the chattering nations.

Then he felt it. His insides seared with pain. And it wasn't like the tiny prickling in his heart whenever one of his citizens died. No, it happened nearly all the time and it was usually just uncomfortable little poke which got only worse when there was a war occurring, unlike the sharp pain in his gut right now. It was as if someone had pressed a white-hot wire to his insides. Gasping slightly, England gave a sudden jolt.

He knew instantly what it meant – something magical had happened.

Now had this been some other situation it would've sounded silly, but England knew that this was a serious, _serious _situation. Almost immediately, the words, 'dark magic', 'return' and 'Voldemort' popped into his mind.

The blond felt something rise up in his throat and he attempted to cough quietly into his palm, which resulted in a sound that sounded like a cat choking on a pineapple. And of course, that rewarded England in a few concerned stares and frowns, which he countered with a sharp glare. When the other nations hastily averted their gaze, he bit his tongue when he saw some splatters of scarlet shining brightly on his palm. _So it was that serious, huh?_

Shoving his right hand into his pocket, he stood up so quickly that his chair actually toppled over and rushed out the door, announcing that he would be at the bathroom.

When he arrived at the men's bathroom, England bent over the cold sink and watched silently as the icy water washed away the bloodstains. He knew that it definitely had something to do with Voldemort and possibly Harry Potter, the young baby who the former had failed to murder. Yet, he had a feeling that he had a part in this story that was about to unfold...

Watery swirls of red swirled into the sink drain. Turning off the running water, England looked at his reflection.

Then something clicked in his brain: He, England, would have to protect young Harry Potter. That was his part in the story. He was to be a Professor _at Hogwarts_...

England whooped excitedly, punching at the air. No matter how far-fetched the idea was, he was going to do it anyway - to be honest, he _really_ wanted to revisit the corridors he had casually strolled through the many centuries before.

At Hogwarts! A whole year without the Frog or America!

He carried that thought as he sprinted out the building designated for the world meeting, muttering excitedly under his breath. He didn't even care if ditching the meeting that he was the host of was rude and very ungentlemanly of him, there were much bigger matters at hand.

"It's not like we ever get anything done, anyway..." He told himself. Luckily, the world meeting was so close to his house and to get home, he only had to walk a few blocks.

Upon unlocking the familiar white wooden door, the green-eyed Briton rushed into his study and immediately took out some paper and a pen. He stared at it for thirty seconds and replaced it with a spare piece of parchment and a quill he had conveniently dug out a few days prior.

"Might as well get used to it, eh?"

Then, he wrote.

_Dear Dumbledore,_

_I am Arthur Kirkland and I wish to apply for a Hogwarts staff position. Please consider my request and send an owl as soon as possible._

_Thank you._

England murmured as he finished the letter with a fancy signature, "Well, it's a short letter but I think it'll do... hopefully."

He left his desk and opened the heavy window, which released the stuffy air from his study. England coughed slightly and then crooned in a gentle voice, "Flying Mint Bunny? Where are you, sweetie?"

Said bunny appeared on his shoulder, radiating happiness, love and cheerfulness. "England!" She squeaked with a pout on her cute little face, "Where were you? I haven't seen you for weeks!"

"Ah, sorry about that, I had to do nation things. But now," His voice dropped to a low whisper. The green bunny flapped her wings excitedly and leaned in closer, "I have a job for you."

"Whoa!"

"Shh," England held out the small piece of parchment and whispered in Flying Mint Bunny's ear, "please take this to Dumbledore. He's the current Headmaster of Hogwarts."

She nodded eagerly and fluttered away with the rolled up message clutched tightly in her dainty jaws.

England smiled to himself as Flying Mint Bunny became a small green dot in the horizon. "Now, time to find that old wand of mine..."

After approximately two hours of searching around in his basement full of who knows what, the Englishman managed to find his old wand wedged between two bottles of rum. He spent about two minutes staring at the alcoholic drink, a mini-war going on in his head.

_It's only a tiny sip..._

_You're getting distracted! Voldemort is killing people out there!_

_Ah, but it's just a little bit-_

_No, no, and NO._

_One tiny gulp and we'll be done-_

_Bloody hell, no! Why am I even talking to myself?_

_Because you are sooo tempted by that delicious, alcoholic drink that is just_dying_to be consumed by such a fine gentlemen much like yourself... myself?_

England hastily snatched his wand away before he could become convinced by... well, _himself._

His wand was a little thing with a cheap yellow star on the top. To be honest, it looked like a child's toy. England gave the wand a little wave...

BOOM!

And he found himself standing in the middle of his basement, well, what remained of it, anyway.

"... Off to Ollivanders, then!"

Nothing, _nothing_, I repeat, was going to dampen his mood about his new, exciting adventure to Hogwarts!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh my god, I am back from the dead. Again.**

**Holy poop, you guys are great! 52 followers, despite this story being mainly inactive! Awesome! Thanks guys!**

**Anyway, I was revising the plot of this story the other day and I realised that... it wasn't as good as it could be. WHICH, is why I had to rewrite everything. Which sucked, because I had actually finished writing the original story. So, yeah. I'll replace the previous chapters, so... yeah. Read it. Please. You'll know when I replace them.**

**Basically, don't worry, I haven't abandoned this fanfic. I just... rewrote everything. Yeah. So, watch out for the rewritten chapters! I'll be uploading them soon!**

**Also... I have jumped to and from fandoms in the past year. I kind of got myself into multiple fandoms? Yeah. So, that means I might keep writing Hetalia, but also possibly Homestuck (lol I know it finished already but shhhhhh), Fire Emblem (oh who am I kidding I was already into this... but Fates is great), the Mother games and Naruto? Maybe.**

**Derpy out!**


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